


Don't forget the Tic Tacs

by rachtay13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachtay13/pseuds/rachtay13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterek happens. Tyler panics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Nie zapomnij o Tic-Tackach](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007649) by [Pomyluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomyluna/pseuds/Pomyluna)



> For Huda (aka teenwolftoday.tumblr), a beacon of positivity in the Teen Wolf fandom throughout the wank. 
> 
> Let's all be happy and think of ways that Sterek could go canon. :)
> 
> This was a quick and dirty fic, no beta, and forgive my ignorance, I know nothing about television production.

Derek and Stiles stand in Derek's loft while Stiles slowly dissolves into a panic attack. Derek leans forward and reaches, hand going to the side of Stiles’ neck, and pulls him forward. Stiles goes willingly. Derek sits back, resting against his desk with Stiles standing between his legs. Stiles shudders, shaking with anxiety.

“Breathe, okay? Relax. Just breathe.” Derek strokes his thumb over the edge of Stiles’ jaw. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, dropping his shoulders. He stares into Derek’s eyes with the same intense look, like he’s still on the edge, about to come undone.

“That’s better. Another. Nice and deep.”

Stiles inhales through his nose, chest rising, eyes boring into Derek’s, unblinking.

“Good,” Derek says, “Now, close your eyes.”

Stiles parts his lips and his eyes dart around Derek’s face, unsure. Derek strokes his thumb over his pulse point and says nice and low, “Close your eyes.”

With a tiny huff, Stiles closes his eyes and swallows. 

“Now count with me. One… two… three…” Stiles begins counting at three and Derek watches him slowly begin to relax. His pulse evens and his hands stop shaking. 

“...Ten. Now open.”

Stiles’ eyes flutter open and Derek focuses on the feel of his neck beneath his palm. Stiles continues breathing, eyes roaming over Derek’s face. He’s hyper aware of his proximity, and his own heart thumps loudly in his ears. He catches Stiles’ gaze and watches as his amber eyes flick down, latching on his mouth. 

Derek’s hand stills and his breath catches. 

Stiles swallows and looks up, unsure. Derek purposefully drags his gaze down, over Stiles’ cheekbones, down his jaw and finally settles on his lips. He runs his thumb over Stiles’ chin, and feels Stiles' quick inhale. 

This is happening. This is the moment, he thinks. We’re really doing this.

Stiles makes a tiny movement forward, and then their faces are touching, noses brushing as they breathe in each other’s air. Derek pushes forward slightly, the barest of touches grazing Stiles’ upper lip. Stiles makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands come up on either side of Derek’s face and presses their lips together fully.

Derek slides his mouth slowly against Stiles’ and pulls him closer by the hip. He presses their mouths together repeatedly before feeling Stiles’ heart rate take off again. He pulls back, watching as Stiles blearily opens his eyes. His pupils are fully dilated and his mouth is wet and red. They stare at each other for long moments and Derek softens his eyes, letting a small smile tug on the sides of mouth. 

Stiles grins, letting out a small laugh, then leans in, pressing their foreheads together. They stay like that for what feels like eternity. Derek sinks into it, letting the rhythm of Stiles’ breath lull him. He brushes their noses back and forth and kisses the smile on Stiles’ face. Stiles smiles bigger and they both pull back and look at each other one last time.

“Cut!”

Tyler and Dylan dropped the pose, Dylan stepping back to allow some space. They both looked over, waiting for instruction.

“That’s perfect. Let’s do it again. Seriously, good job guys. Let’s reset.”

Tyler moved back to his first position, wiping the moisture from his lips. He avoided Dylan’s eyes and tried to hype himself up for another take. He was woefully unprepared for the first one. 

Honestly, he was surprised they’d done so well on the first take. Kissing scenes were always a bit awkward, especially when you didn’t plan them to a tee. The only instruction they’d received was ‘hesitant and tender.’ It was definitely both of those, emphasis on the 'hesitant.'

He glanced around the room, thankful for the low staff numbers today. Only essential crew had been called in. Tyler could think of a few reasons for this- the major one being that less crew meant less chance of the scene being leaked. He and Dylan didn’t even get the two pages for this scene until yesterday, and then they’d been told not to tell anyone what they were shooting or with whom. He’d holed up in his trailer, going over the scene, and silently freaked out.

He debated texting Dylan to see what his reaction was, but instead called Jeff to confirm that it was really happening. Jeff reassured him, saying that just like any relationship on the show, they’d have their ups and downs and the kissing scenes would be limited. When Jeff asked him if it would be a problem, he stuttered out a ‘no’ and told him it’d be fine. Jeff wanted them to keep it under wraps as long as possible, since the air date was still months away. He wanted it to make a splash, and Tyler had no doubt it would.

Making ‘Sterek’ a real thing was a big deal. He knew it was; not only for the future of television, the show, the rest of the cast and crew, but primarily himself. The implications of playing a bisexual didn’t bother him, and neither did fan reaction or the possible backlash. No, the biggest concern he had was being that close to Dylan.

He adored working with Dylan. Loved watching him act. He made it seem effortless- he even frequently said that he tried not to over think his acting decisions, and wasn’t that the worst? Tyler was a textbook over thinker, and he loosely planned his phrasing and facial expressions days before shooting.

He loved doing interviews with Dylan. They were always fun, he always laughed, and he loved hearing Dylan laugh with him. Dylan consistently made an effort to honestly answer questions, but would still make jokes, which Tyler could never seem to do naturally. He envied that ability.

He loved hanging out with Dylan. They saw a lot less of each other lately, but when they did, Tyler couldn’t shake the constant awareness of Dylan’s presence. It was like his mind was divided, one half solely devoted to watching Dylan talk and move, and the other half for basic bodily functions. And watch he did. Dylan fiddled and made weird facial expressions even when he wasn’t speaking, and sometimes even just his reaction to whomever was speaking was funny enough to set Tyler off. Dylan seemed to live and breathe with his whole being and embraced everything thrown at him. 

If Dylan noticed the attention Tyler gave him, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

Hell, Tyler had barely acknowledged it himself. He felt like a twelve-year-old with a crush. He just found him so… interesting. He wanted to hear him talk and watch him move and just… be around him all the time. He finally realized what had been brewing when he read the script and immediately felt like throwing up out of nervousness.

But he was a professional, dammit. When he strolled on set this morning, stomach in his throat, he was determined not to let this be weird. He’d act casual and normal, like kissing one of your close friends and coworkers was no big deal. Dylan had texted him the night before with a chipper ‘don’t forget the tic tacs xD,’ and that lent him a sense of rightness. If Dylan was joking about it, then they’d be fine.

Except Dylan had been quiet and distant all morning. This behavior was disconcerting at the very least, Tyler thought, and panic-inducing at most. He could barely handle his own nerves; how the hell could he help Dylan? They went through the motions of blocking and a quick run-through before shooting some exposition: Stiles running into the room, already beginning to panic, and a few shots of Derek looking worried. 

All in all, the scene was fairly short. Tyler thought it was pretty appropriate considering the way the relationship had been building over the season. There’d been a lot of silent looks and one-on-one time for the two characters. Tyler could have imagined a number of ways they’d get together, but this one seemed perfect for the story arc.

As soon as they’d begun the scene, he tried to put away all of his personal thoughts and fears and focused on Dylan; his eyes, the heat coming off of his body, the way his tongue kept flicking out to swipe at his lip…

Kissing Dylan was… so weird. He’d hyped up this moment in his head for hours, imagining what it would be like; but more than anything he just felt awkward and far too aware of the eyes on his back and over his shoulder. Dylan was wound so tightly he was practically vibrating. He’d seen him nervous for a scene before, but usually he relaxed as soon as they began rolling. Not this time. 

“Okay, take two.” 

Tyler blinked and straightened, coming out of his reverie, and finally looked at Dylan. They worked through the scene again and Tyler felt the heat rising up his cheeks. His heart was thundering when their lips finally met again. He purposefully made it slow and soft, and Dylan pulled himself closer. Their hips aligned and Dylan made a noise deep in his throat, opening his mouth wider to Tyler.

They hadn’t discussed tongue. Typically, for a woman, he wouldn’t use tongue unless directed to or if they’d talked about it first, but… Dylan was a guy... and he was already using tongue. Tyler couldn’t help the zing that ran down his spine, and he shuddered, kissing Dylan back slowly and deeply. Far more deeply than the first take. 

He rolled with it, enjoying himself far too much, and almost broke when Dylan pulled away with glassy eyes. He forced his face to soften and smile and then reeled him back in for their final kiss.

“Okay, cut. Let’s reset with camera two.”

Tyler breathed heavily, dropping his hands from their hold on Dylan. Dylan stepped away, licking his lips and wincing. “Okay?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah,” Dylan said, distracted, adjusting his jeans. Tyler stared, shocked. Was he… was he turned on?

“Potty break!” Dylan declared, throwing his arms above his head. He rushed off stage. 

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck and went to grab a bottle of water. He shook his head at himself. Of course he wasn’t turned on, he just had to piss. He snorted, wondering how it’d be possible to get aroused when a camera and ten plus crew members were staring at you. He had to give credit to porn stars; he could never do it.

Before they started again, Russell told them to go a little more aggressively this time. 

“Would they do that though? I thought it would be tentative because it’s their first time-” Tyler objected, but stopped when he saw Dylan’s face. 

“Seriously? Stiles is gagging for it, there’s no way he’d be super hesitant,” Dylan said. “I thought it was weird that they were so iffy about it.”

Russell told them to just try it.

This time, they started out hesitant, but as soon as their lips met, it quickly grew heated. Tyler focused on Dylan’s mouth and the long line of warmth pressed up against him and momentarily forgot that they need to stop kissing at some point. He breathed in Dylan’s scent, rubbed the pad of his thumb across a patch of unshaven stubble on his neck, and licked the mint flavor from his mouth. 

The take after that, Dylan needed a touch up because his mouth was so swollen and red.

With each take Tyler changed it up. Sometimes he would kiss first, sometimes he’d simply wait for Dylan to push forward, and sometimes he’d make Dylan wait, holding him back as he eye checked him. But no matter what the start of the kiss was like, the middle was always the same. Dylan would open to him, surging forward, and Tyler would ride the wave, giving back as good as he got. 

Russell wanted to see Derek being the aggressor for once and as they reset, Tyler wiped his hands on his jeans and took a deep breath, steadying himself. He’d wanted to kiss Dylan like this… well, since yesterday. Since he’d figured out that yes, kissing was definitely an activity he wanted to be doing with Dylan, and not just on set. His stomach flipped as he met Dylan’s gaze, and he licked his lips reflexively. Dylan’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and he swallowed.

During the scene, Tyler found a calm place and suddenly he wasn’t nervous anymore. Kissing Dylan was obviously not a big deal. He’d done it a few times and now… now he’d do it again. And maybe again after that. He pulled his face closer, looking into Dylan’s eyes, and very slowly wetted his lips. Dylan’s pupils widened and his mouth fell open, breath puffing against Tyler’s lips.

Tyler took charge, nipping lightly at Dylan’s lower lip, then top, and Dylan closed his eyes letting Tyler do as he pleased. He nipped and sucked, teasing, before finally pulling Dylan flush to his body and kissing him for all he was worth. 

Dylan moaned and his hips jerked when Tyler sucked on his tongue, but Tyler kept him there, close, and kissed him deeply. Dylan’s hands were still hanging limply at his sides, and Tyler slid a hand up his back and down his arm, and Dylan took the hint, throwing his arms dramatically around Tyler. 

It was too funny to not react- he stuttered a laugh and kept kissing through his smile, but he felt Dylan shaking in silent laughter against him, and all the nervous energy burbled up out of him. He tried to stay in character, punctuating their giggles with tiny kisses and fond looks, it couldn't be helped. Dylan finally completely broke, collapsing forward with his face pressed to Tyler’s chest, laughing loud and long. 

Tyler had tears in his eyes, and he tried to hold Dylan up through their laughter-induced weakness. He looked over and saw the crew smiling and laughing too, and Russell called for them all to reset and do it again, but this time on purpose. 

Dylan cackled. “Oh my god! I couldn’t help it, I felt like I was in a romance novel.”

Tyler wiped the moisture from his eyes and tried to stifle his laughter, but every time he and Dylan looked at each other they set off again. Tyler’s abs were beginning to ache and his face hurt from smiling. 

By the time they finished the next take, it’d taken three times as long as all the previous ones. 

When they were done, Tyler felt buoyant. His body ached pleasantly, and his mouth was swollen, and he was sure he was high on endorphins. Russell caught them before they left, saying, “No telling! Not even Posey! This needs to stay a quiet until Jeff makes the call.” 

Tyler and Dylan shared a look and snickered as they left in the direction of their trailers.

“That was fun,” Dylan said. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”

“Your mom,” was his automatic response. Dylan laughed, smacking Tyler in the shoulder. Tyler side-eyed him as they walked. “Not so bad yourself.”

Dylan sighed. “Guess we’ll be doing this a lot more in the future.”

“I think two weeks from now is the next one. There’s a suspicious call time and no scene description.”

Dylan’s head whipped around. “Well.” They walked a few paces, Dylan’s hands patting a beat against his thighs. “Wonder what we’ll be doing then.”

Tyler snorted. “With the way this show is, I have a rough idea.”

Tyler caught Dylan’s appalled look. “Really? A sex scene?” 

Tyler shrugged. “Are you really surprised by that?” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Nervous?”

“Meh.” Dylan shrugged exaggeratedly, throwing his arms around. “Done it before, kind of, but not with…”

“A guy?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it. I bet it’ll be fumbly and awkward just like Stiles.”

Dylan laughed. “Yeah. That’ll be a blast. Maybe we can shoot a romance novel cover while we’re at it.” 

“Just as long as I’m the swooning maiden,” Tyler said with a straight face.

Dylan cracked up, throwing his head back. “Oh man. Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

They stopped outside Tyler’s trailer and Tyler looked at Dylan, wondering if he was the only one who felt a bit awkwardly happy, but Dylan was looking at him strangely. 

“What?”

Dylan chewed on his lip. “I just… I was really nervous about today. But… it was nice. And fun. And, full disclosure, I was sporting a chub after our second take that would not go away.”

Tyler blinked, frozen to the spot.

Dylan shuffled and shrugged, looking away. “That’s not to make you feel weird or anything, it’s just… Scenes with you are the best, and I’m just happy, you know, that this is all happening because that means we’ll have more scenes together and get to be around- you know, hanging out and stuff. So. Yeah.”

Tyler forced himself to nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

Dylan gave him a smile and turned to walk away.

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Tyler called out before he could think about it. Dylan stopped and turned.

“Uh, nothing really… why?”

“Do you wanna… go get dinner or something?”

“Yeah! Yes. Sure, lemme just go change. Be back in a sec.” Dylan waggled his eyebrows with a smile and then rushed off to his own trailer.

Tyler couldn’t stop the silly grin that spread across his face.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think we should have sex!" Stiles exclaims as slides into the loft. He stares at Derek, eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he's been running.

Derek cocks his head, eyes narrowing in thought, then shrugs. "Sure. Come on." He rises from the couch and undoes his belt, takes off his shirt, and steps out of his jeans as he walks toward the bed.

"Oh my god!" Stiles shouts indignantly, covering his eyes.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs in exasperation.

Stiles squawks, palms out in supplication. “You just took your pants off!”

“Yes, that’s generally what happens when you’re about to have sex with someone. Did you want me to leave them on?”

Stiles cycles through various facial expressions, finally landing on false confidence. “Nope. Pants stay off. Okay. Yes, this… this is happening. So, _so_ quickly.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, softer, placating, “We don’t have to do this.”

Stiles blinks, chest heaving, eyes slowly becoming determined. “No, I want to. I just thought you’d need more convincing.” His mouth quirks up to the left. “And you know, mental preparation, but I see you've got that covered. So, you wanna jump on this, am I right?”

Derek swallows and nods, and the moment feels heavier as he offers his hand. Stiles takes it and Derek reels him in, arm going around his lower back, noses brushing.

“You’re sure,” Derek asks, eyes honest and concerned.

“Hell yes,” Stiles says as he traps Derek’s face in his hands and kisses him, firm and eager. Derek grips him tighter, bending him backwards and gives back as good as he’s getting.

 

“Cut!”

 

Tyler dropped his gaze as they separated, hands sliding from around Dylan’s torso slowly.

"Good, let's reset!"

Tyler licked his lips, savoring the lingering mint flavor from Dylan's mouth. Dylan stepped away, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

Tyler cleared his throat and moved back to his first position, pulling his pants back on. An itch of self-consciousness niggled but he ignored it. He'd been preparing for this almost nude scene for the last two weeks, ever since he asked Jeff straight up if they'd be losing any clothing on screen. Jeff was honest without divulging any details.

He'd finally gotten the script yesterday, and he'd texted Dylan immediately, teasing, asking if he was ready for his very first shirtless scene.

Dylan replied, _oh yeah, ready to be blinded?_

After their first kissing scene two weeks ago, Tyler had felt more calm and settled about his newfound realizations concerning Dylan- in that he accepted that he was totally into him and wanted to kiss him all the time and hold his stupid beautiful hands and stare longingly into his big amber eyes...

Yeah, he was completely gone on Dylan, and their increased time hanging out, sharing meals, and being on set together did nothing to quell his infatuation. Dylan had taken to hanging out in Tyler's trailer during their shared down time, and occasionally Tyler would show up on set even if he wasn't needed.

It was unspoken, this growing... friendship? Relationship? Somewhere in between the two, Tyler thought. He didn't want to force it or push it and he was enjoying the tension; the weight of Dylan's eyes on him during meals, the sensation of his arm brushing casually against his while they hung out with T-pose, the shared looks about the secret scripts, and long text conversations discussing scenes and just how much sexual tension they should purposely imbue them with.

He wasn't _sure_ of Dylan's feelings towards him, but every time Dylan knocked on his door or his phone buzzed with a text, hope ballooned in his chest. He'd been overly aware of Dylan's physical presence for _months_ , and now Tyler felt, in his very cells, that Dylan had the same awareness of him. Their eyes would meet as soon as they were in a room together, and Dylan would somehow find a way to be near him, touch him casually on the arm or shoulder or chest. Tyler couldn't help the quickening of his heart or the breathlessness that accompanied every touch.

As they reset for the same scene, he tried to forget himself and sink into the routine of Derek. He’d tried not to get too hyped up about the scenes today, as it was mostly talking, less action; but he was still unshakably nervous. After they finished with this scene, they’d move on to the bed of Derek’s loft, the part where Stiles lost his shirt.

“Okay, quiet on set!”

They worked through the scene again, and Tyler fought a smile as Dylan’s face morphed from one emotion to the next, moving fluidly between aggressive determination to shocked arousal to false bravado to finally, quiet steadiness. As always, he was amazed at how much Dylan could fit into one short scene. He reeled Dylan in for a kiss, and a small smile crossed his lips unchecked.

“And cut! Tyler- the smile at the end, that was good, keep that. Okay, again.”

Tyler took stock of his face and realized he was still smiling.

Goddammit.

He scrunched and stretched the muscles in his face, forcing the corners of his lips to relax. He pulled up his pants once again and went back to his first mark.

He was slipping. Damn damn damn. He needed to stop thinking, just act. Act. Stop thinking about Dylan.

He resumed his first position and looked up at Dylan. Dylan was already staring- inquisitive- one eyebrow raised and smug twist to his lips.

Tyler scratched his eyebrow with his middle finger as Russell called action.

This time, he kept close awareness of his face and body, in full control of his actions and muscles as they moved through the scene. Instead of the silly smile he'd let slip, he softened his eyes and lifted his cheeks in a more Derek-style smile.

They kissed once more, and Dylan took control, licking into his mouth unexpectedly. His stomach lurched and hands involuntarily tightened around Dylan's waist as his tongue slid against Dylan's. Dylan kept at it aggressively, biting forward, harder, deeper; and Tyler shuddered, flushed heat rising across his skin. His focus narrowed to the places they were connected, and Tyler pulled him closer, wanting more; more warmth, more tongue, more of Dylan's hands on his bare skin.

"Cut!"

Tyler jerked, and they separated with an awful smacking sound. Tyler's heart raced and he froze as he felt his face heat. Dylan stayed in the circle of his arms, eyebrows raised. They stared at each other for a second before Dylan dropped his gaze to Tyler's lips. Dylan looked up with a happy, knowing smile and Tyler grit his teeth.

"Fuck you," he said lightly, pulling away, and put his jeans and shirt back on.

Dylan surprisingly said nothing; just smiled freely and bounced on his toes at his mark as they waited for the crew to be ready. Someone came over to fix Tyler's hair and their light touch sent shivers down his spine.

_Get it together_ , he told himself. He couldn't act under these conditions; he couldn't let Dylan get to him like this. He was a professional!

This time, Tyler moved through the scene more slowly, giving himself time for control and authentic response, which in turn gave Dylan more time for his ridiculous facial expressions. He almost broke when Dylan peeked through his fingers and his eyes swept up and down Tyler's near-naked form. He pushed through, channeling exasperation, and when he finally got his arms around Dylan, he wasted no time.

...

Tyler kissed him like he was angry; like kissing him stupid was the worst punishment he could inflict.

Dylan thought they'd been having fun. Tyler already knew kissing got him aroused (which was becoming more of a problem at this very moment), and Dylan thought it'd be fun to see how much he could affect Tyler. Kinda like _turned-on chicken._

And now that he thought about it, it might have been cruel to do it in front of the crew. But then again, where else would they do it? It's not like they kissed off set.

Tyler sucked on his tongue, and his hips jerked helplessly in response.

Yeah, wow, Tyler was definitely winning. Aggressive angry kissing for the comeback. 10 points for Hoech.

Russell called cut, and Tyler ended the kiss with finesse, thumb swiping the moisture from his lips slowly.

Dylan realized he was just standing there, watching Tyler’s mouth.

_Shit._

He stumbled back and shook himself, pointedly not looking at Tyler as he redressed. He adjusted his pants a bit and got ready for the next take, which would hopefully be the last.

He might lose if they went on any longer.

The camera was set up for close shots, and Dylan worked through the scene, ignoring his lower body the whole while. They paused again as they reset for a close shot of the kissing part, and Dylan let his eyes roam over Tyler’s torso, down his tight black underwear, to his muscular thighs.

Not often did he find himself attracted to the male form, but Tyler was an exception in every way, he’d decided. Tyler had always been a good friend, and he’d always been aware that he was hot _peripherally_ \- he knew other people thought him hot- but ever since getting hopelessly aroused while kissing him in front of crew and people he called friends, well… Tyler deserved a second look.

They’d hung out a lot more, and now Dylan found he didn’t want to go a day, half a day, a few hours even, without seeing him. He’d never had a ‘friend’ he was that obsessed with, and as his eyes lingered on the high cut of Tyler’s abs, he admitted that Tyler was something other than a friend.

Something happy-making and stomach-twisting and palm-sweat-inducing.

He tried to avoid staring at the bulge of Tyler’s crotch, but it was right there…

Oh yeah, Tyler was definitely in the category of _other_.

Tyler cleared his throat.

Dylan lifted his eyebrows, scratched his cheek, and quickly averted his gaze to _anywhere else_.

“Okay, take it from Tyler’s line.”

Tyler pulled him in and they fell into character.

Tyler went straight for the kill when they kissed. He pulled Dylan tighter, closer, harder, and Dylan felt himself gasp, mouth opening wider. Tyler took advantage, devouring him.

His bones melted. Literally melted. He was now goo.

It was all he could do to hold himself up and kiss Tyler back.

He felt his control slipping, his jeans growing tighter, and he was actually starting to get uncomfortable with this level of arousal.

But no, no no no, he would not go down like this! He would not surrender.

Time to pull out the secret weapon.

Dylan let his hands roam, conscious of the camera, and let one fall to Tyler’s ass. He simultaneously squeezed and pulled Tyler’s hips to his, hard in an upward grind, and let a soft moan escape his throat.

Tyler only held him harder, hands clenching around his hips, and kissed him more deeply.

Oh, god, how were they still going? Was Russell going for soft-core now? Because- fuck- he was about to jizz in his pants.

“Okay, cut. Alright alright, let’s reset for the next scene. Take fifteen.”

Tyler pulled back and Dylan swayed, not sure of his footing. Tyler steadied him with a hand on his upper arm, but still gave him space.

He blinked a few times then looked at Tyler, finding his eyes reflecting the same hazy arousal he was feeling himself.

“Fuck,” he said.

Tyler smiled, tired but still brilliant. “Your cheeks are red.”

Dylan ignored the quick beat of his heart and turned away. “Yeah, it’s fucking hot in here.” He took a seat in his chair with a bottle of water and pretended not to watch Tyler as he pulled his pants back on. Tyler sat by him, t-shirt thrown over his shoulder, chugging his own bottle of water.

Dylan could feel the waves of heat coming from Tyler’s arm, just barely brushing his.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Tyler asked.

Dylan took a deep breath before responding. "Hanging out with Posey."

Tyler snorted, watching the crew reset the lighting. "Wonder if he'll ask what you were doing today."

Dylan smiled, imagining his reaction if he told the truth. "He'd be angry he missed it."

Tyler glanced over, flashing a smile. A sudden thrill ran through him and he could feel his ears and neck heating.

"We could give him a preview," Tyler said, eyebrows wiggling.

"Hohoho!! Oh man. _Duuude_!" Dylan cackled, nervous energy releasing at the sight Tyler's broad smile and crinkled eyes. Not often did they get to talk openly about these scenes, and hearing Tyler joke so casually caught him off guard.

"Fuck, man," he said shaking his head, "I don't know about that. I mean, here I can almost restrain myself- there's people everywhere- but alone..." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, mouth falling open as he tongued his canine.

"Maybe that's the idea," Tyler challenged, eyes sparkling.

Dylan stared, sure his own face reflected amusement, but inside he felt like he'd lost his footing. Was this a bit, were they just bantering- _suggestive chicken_? Or was Tyler legitimately flirting with him?

Better to play it safe.

"Well, if that's the idea, you should come over with me. Grab some beers, let him make some guesses and then we can play charades. See how long it takes him to catch on." He winked.

Tyler just smiled slowly, lips pressing together as if he were holding back laughter. Dylan took a swig of his water, breaking eye contact.

"I think he'd get it pretty quickly if we started making out," Tyler said.

"Meh," he shrugged, "he's a little slow sometimes." He raised one eyebrow at Tyler. "He may not get it until dicks are out."

Tyler laughed, folding forward with his face in his hands as he shook with mirth. Dylan laughed in response, over warm, but so happy.

"But seriously," Dylan began when their laughter calmed, "do you wanna come over? We're just gonna get some food and hang."

Tyler leaned back, balling his shirt in his hands. "Yeah, sure," he said with an easy smile.

"Cool." He pulled out his phone and texted Posey.

They sat in companionable silence, forearms fully touching, until it was time for the next scene.

Wardrobe came over and took their shirts, and also requested their pants.

"But I thought this was just shirtless?" he protested.

"There's no sheet or blanket, and they'll need a wide shot. You really think you'd have sex and put jeans back on?"

"Well..." Dylan waited until Tyler unbuckled his belt to undo his, feeling like he was doing something wrong, forbidden. Shirtless, pantless, no socks or shoes… He shivered, overheated skin prickling in the open air.

Russell called them over and told them how to lay; Tyler on his stomach with an arm across Dylan's torso, face turned towards him, with Dylan on his back, limbs everywhere.

Dylan assumed his position first, remembering as soon as the backs of his thighs touched the sheets that his sad boxers were all that covered him, and his whole pale body would soon be immortalized on film. He frowned viciously to himself as he settled, covering his nipples with his hands.

Tyler crawled up the bed and he could feel his anxiety level ratchet up with every bounce of the mattress.

Muscles. Skin. Heat.

Fuck.

Tyler settled beside him on his right, arm slung across his torso.

"You are..." His arm was heavy and so warm, the rest of his exposed skin felt chilled in comparison.

Tyler lifted his head to look at him, and wow, this is what it would be like to have Tyler in bed.

Shit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, uncomfortable with how close their faces were.

"I'm what?" He heard Tyler ask, but he was saved from answering when Russell called for quiet.

He focused on his breathing, willing his anxious body into stillness as they filmed the long sweeps. He turned his face to the soft light from the windows simulating early morning, letting the image of dust motes floating in the sunlight calm him.

Tyler’s arm tightened over him momentarily as he tucked his fingers between Dylan’s ribs and the mattress. His own fingers spasmed in response. Tyler’s thumb began to rub back and forth, slowly, tentatively, like Tyler just wanted to feel the texture of Dylan’s skin.

Dylan broke out in goosebumps, stomach clenching. He kept his eyes shut and grit his teeth, still pretending sleep for the camera, but the urge to look, to touch, itched. Dylan could feel Tyler’s breath on his bare shoulder. He shivered.

“Dylan, be still. Relax your face, your jaw is clenched.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting the tension eek out and his mouth fall open as if he were asleep. He imagined he was alone, in bed with Hoech like there were no expectations, just easy companionable, cuddly sleep. Right. Hoech was totally a cuddler, he’d love to do something like this just for the fun of it…

Dylan felt Tyler relax as well, breaths growing longer and less urgent.

“Okay, cut.”

The cameras reset and Dylan opened his eyes.

Bad idea.

Hoech’s eyes were open as well, gaze directed at the curve of Dylan’s neck and collarbone. Dylan could count his eyelashes if he wanted to, his face was so close. This closeness felt different than kissing did. This wasn’t hurried or aggressive or passionate.

This was soft, fond, still.

Dylan swallowed, closing his eyes and resumed his position.

…

Dylan was struggling and Tyler couldn’t tell why.

He thought this part would be the easiest. Perhaps he was just nervous about showing so much skin? He couldn’t be sure why, but Dylan kept tensing up and twitching and making these little annoyed huffing sounds.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Dylan cracked one eye open, frowning, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, yeah.”

Tyler swiped his thumb over Dylan’s ribs, hoping it was soothing. “You sure?”

“Mmp, yep, I’m good,” Dylan croaked.

He wasn’t convinced, but he let it drop.

They stayed there for the next ten minutes as the crew got what they needed, and then Dylan did the last part of the scene, where he wakes up to his phone trilling, answers blearily and says, “Scott?”

They did a few takes of that, and Dylan slowly relaxed more and more every time, making his ‘waking up’ face more convincing.

Before Tyler knew it, the scene was over, and Dylan was standing, stretching, pulling on his own clothes. Tyler felt cold.

“You still comin’ over, man?” Dylan asked, smacking Tyler on his bare thigh. Dylan seemed fine, back to his normal self.

“Yeah, you bet.” Tyler pulled on his own shirt and smiled at the prospect of getting more time with him.

“Good,” Dylan smiled, then laughed to himself. “Can’t wait to tell T what we did today,” he joked.

Tyler smiled, then winked. “Me either.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Derek! _Derek!_ " Stiles slaps his cheek, desperation evident in his jerky movements. He's out of breath and slightly damp from the rain outside, shirt sticking to his back. Derek's face is slack, unresponsive, where he lays on the floor of his loft.

Stiles slaps harder, screams louder.

Derek rouses, eyes unfocused with the poison surging through his veins.

" _Derek_ , Jesus, thank the- okay, here-" Stiles unstops a vial full of dark liquid, and holds Derek's head up while sloshing the contents all over Derek's mouth. Derek manages to swallow a good portion of it, and Stiles sighs, shoulders slumping in relief.

Derek's face contorts and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

"It's okay, it's gonna hurt, but that means it's working, okay?" Stiles runs his hands over Derek's arms, his chest, trying to soothe and comfort.

"Stiles," Derek gasps, eyes still shut. He curls in pain, hands reaching, and Stiles takes them, holds them to his chest.

"Am I dying?" Derek asks, mostly air and choked off groans.

"No! No, you're not, I promise," Stiles brightens, laughing. "You're fine, it just hurts right now."

Derek shakes his head, groaning. "No, I'm dying."

Stiles' face goes still. "You're not dying. I made sure of it. We talked about this remember? Dying's against the rules. So buck up, you can handle a little pain. You've had way worse."

But Derek is still thrashing, gulping half-breaths, high-pitched whines leaking from his throat, and Stiles seems to lose his confidence. "Hey, hey, Derek," he says as he gathers Derek's upper body in his lap. "You're fine, it's okay. You took the medicine, so you'll be fine, that's how it works, right?"

Derek's body is rigid and ripples with each wave of pain. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and Stiles can only stare helplessly, biting his lip.

Derek opens his eyes, pain evident, but finds Stiles' with a surprising amount of awareness. Derek's nostrils flare as he breathes, parts his lips, and speaks.

"I'm sorry. I love you."

Stiles' mouth falls open and Derek's eyes fall shut.

Stillness and silence reign.

"Derek. Derek. _Derek_."

Derek is quiet, face relaxed, body lax in Stiles' arms.

"No. Nope, no, this is not happening," Stiles gasps through welling tears. He pushes his fingers into Derek's neck, hunting for a pulse. He begins CPR while chanting again and again that it isn't happening, Derek's not allowed to die, stupid freaking werewolves, this isn't happening, this isn't-

Derek gasps, coughs, turns onto his side.

Stiles lets out a single sob, sits back on his heels, watches Derek breathe.

They stare at each other.

Derek tiredly flops one hand out, and Stiles takes it immediately, leaning down to press a fierce kiss to Derek's lips.

"I love you," Derek says again, a whisper, eyes half shut.

Stiles stares like he can't quite believe it, taking shuddering breaths, mouth hanging open.

"I love you too."

Derek pulls him in with a hand on the back of his neck, kissing him simply.

"Cut!"

Dylan broke the kiss, not making eye contact with Tyler as he sat back. He adjusted to sitting and wiped his hands over his face and through his hair.

This day would be exhausting, he could already tell.

He hadn't been looking forward to today's shoot, stomach sinking when he'd read about the emotionally charged scene, filled with tears and love confessions. Just perfect, exactly the last thing he wanted to do with Tyler at this point.

"Let's start again, from the top."

Dylan sighed, taking the offered prop, and put aside his own feelings, pushing himself back into the headspace of a panicked Stiles.

He waited for the crew to be ready, fiddled with the vial, and looked anywhere other than Tyler sprawled out in front of him. He knew Tyler was upset with him, but now was not the time to address it. Not that he wanted to address it- he wanted it to disappear completely, never speak of it again, and just move on.

But no way in hell would Hoech, Mr. Sunshine, let it rest.

No, he’d be all concerned, condescendingly so, saying that he loved Dylan as a friend, he wasn’t into him _that way_ , and that- that was worse than outright rejection. He could deal with disgust, with no interest or spark, but he just knew that Tyler would be so fucking _kind_ about it, and no. He couldn’t deal with that.

When the director called action, he took one steadying breath and began fake-slapping in earnest.

The most heart-breaking thing about it all, Dylan thought, was he really did love his scenes with Tyler. They were always interesting, challenging, and something about being in Tyler’s presence egged him on to do better, be more dynamic, to go at it with gusto.

Even now, watching Tyler shake in supposed pain, made his heart race and chest ache, wish to be a comfort, to soothe- exactly what his character would feel- but in the back of his mind, he knew it was a little bit ruined. Their interactions now were laced with this underlying tension, this stupid _thing_ he’d put between them.

He wasn't free anymore. He was lashed to a moment's lapse in judgment, tethered to his mistake like a sailboat, sails up but still tied to the dock. He was stupid, and he regretted it, and wished he could forget the look on Hoech's face as he pulled away.

When he’d read the script for today's shoot, he’d had a moment wondering if he should text Hoech, see what he thought about it, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to break their week of awkward silence.

What would he have said?

_ready to spout your undying love for me? lol_

_you know what would make painful writhing even better? doing it shirtless XD_

_bet you can’t wait for me to kiss you again- not_

The kissing part was the biggest punch to the gut. Thank you, Jeff, so much, for finding a place for that.

He pressed his lips to Tyler’s for the final time during the scene. Tyler’s fingers were firm against the back of his neck, lips warm and slightly tacky, and it was all too intimate.

Jesus, this was torture.

“And cut. Okay, let’s go through the first part a few more times, stopping at the 'I love you.'"

Dylan pressed his palms against his eyes and wished he was anywhere but here.

…

Tyler shuffled back to his beginning position, jaw clenched. His fingers itched to touch Dylan anywhere to let him know, to tell him that just for now, everything was okay between them.

They began the scene again, and Tyler couldn’t focus on anything other than what his body was doing, imagining the torture and pain of poison. He thought it must be a bit like what his heart felt like right now. A burning, searing, twisting, deep and aching knot that you wanted to cut from your middle with your own nails.

It was all pointless, Tyler knew- Dylan didn’t need to feel bad, he’d done stupid things while he was drunk, he was forgiven the instant it happened.

Not that Dylan needed to apologize at all. And really, more than anything, Tyler felt he should apologize for not returning the kiss with enthusiasm.

The week before, after shooting their sad excuse of a sex scene, they'd been hanging out at Posey's to watch the game. Posey's AC had gone out and it was on the just-a-touch-too-hot side, so they were hanging out shirtless. Tyler thought it felt like old times at their apartment that first year.

It was dark, Posey had crashed a while ago, sacked out on the long part of the sectional. Dylan and Tyler sat on the other end, taking swigs of their beers between bouts of conversation.

Tyler finally worked up the nerve to ask about earlier, while they were shooting on the bed.

"So, was today weird for you? You seemed kinda..."

Dylan raised his eyebrows as he looked over, face half blue from the light of the television screen, highlighted in warm yellow from the stove light in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I was just... Had trouble relaxing. Really tense for some reason." He shrugged.

"Well, here, turn around." Tyler set his beer down and pulled one knee up on to the couch. Dylan didn't quite get it, brow furrowing as he let Tyler move him so he faced away.

At Tyler's first touch, thumb pressing evenly along Dylan's shoulder muscle, Dylan groaned, dropping his head back and then forward.

Tyler smiled. He worked in sections, rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb, digging into the muscles of Dylan's back.

Dylan kept up a steady stream of moans and groans, punctuated with 'mmm's and 'oh, god's.

"Can you just like, do this forever? I fucking love you right now."

Tyler snorted, fire igniting up his spine at Dylan's words. His stomach leapt as he decided to take a chance. "Well, I clearly love you or I wouldn't be doing this."

Dylan's back tightened with laughter. "Aww, thanks man."

Tyler ran his thumbs along Dylan's neck, but then thought of a better idea.

"Here, lay down, head in my lap."

Once positioned, Tyler could see the haze of satisfaction over Dylan's face. His eyes were unfocused, mouth lax, movements sluggish. Tyler began rubbing again, using his fingers to dig in and pull. He found the base of Dylan's skull, pushing his fingers lightly into the concave space there, braced his thumbs behind Dylan's ears, and began to pull.

Dylan's mouth dropped open in surprised pleasure, breath huffing out like a gasp. Tyler slowly released, beginning to massage the rest of his skull, but Dylan hadn't gotten past that one move.

"Holy shit, you have to do that again." He opened his eyes, and Tyler stared down, stomach swooping.

"I will." He pushed on the crown of Dylan's head with his thumbs, then worked his way back down to his neck. He did it again, and Dylan groaned loud enough to make Posey shift and wake up.

"What are you doing?" Posey mumbled.

"Hoech's gonna make me jizz myself from a neck massage," Dylan groaned.

"Mmm, me next." Posey got comfortable and started snoring.

"I was not even kidding, this is amazing." Tyler watched Dylan flex his calves, point his toes, and adjust his crotch. He seriously doubted he was having that kind of effect on him.

When he'd done all he could, Dylan looked blissed out and comfortable, but he didn't want to stop touching- his fingers loved the feel of Dylan's skin. He stroked more lightly, running his first fingers over Dylan's forehead, his cheekbones, under his jaw to his ears.

His eyes swept over Dylan's face, memorizing. He didn't know if he'd ever see Dylan so relaxed and happy because of him again, and he greedily wished he could.

Slowly, Dylan came back to himself, blinked a few times and sat up with a smile, leaning into Tyler's space.

"Ugh, that was amazing, you're the best."

It all would have been fine, Tyler thought, if he hadn't looked so surprised when Dylan leaned even further, and kissed him.

It was firm, closed, but Dylan's lips were soft, dry, and it was so different from all the kisses they'd shared on screen that he didn't know how to respond.

Dylan pulled back abruptly, sober eyes wide with shock, and before he could say or do anything to reassure him, Dylan was cursing, apologizing, saying it was a mistake, he was more drunk than he thought, _oh gosh, is that the time_ , and was out the door with his shirt in his hand.

Tyler sat there for ten minutes in shock before the thought of going after him even crossed his mind.

He called Dylan's phone, but no answer. He composed a text, but hesitated sending it. How did one tell a guy they were half in love with that they didn't mind smooching, but no big if that's not on the table.

But also, _please_ be half in love back.

The next day had dragged on in awkward turmoil, wondering if he should reach out again or let it lie.

The next five days passed in the same fashion.

Worst part of it all, was Tyler felt he'd lost a friend. Gone were their lunches together, their chill sessions in his trailer, the long text conversations. Dylan hardly even looked at him beyond necessity. The abrupt shift in their relationship was jarring, like expecting Mountain Dew and tasting milk.

He didn't know where he stood with Dylan, but he wanted it to be right, to be good. If _being something_ that included kissing wasn't what Dylan wanted, then that was... fine. It _would_ be fine, eventually.

No matter what, he wanted their friendship back.

"Okay, let's take it from the first 'I love you.'"

Tyler took a deep breath, released the tension in his shoulders, and said 'I love you.'

...

Dylan could _feel_ Tyler watching him, analyzing and wondering, trying to determine the best way to break their silence.

The best way to let him down easy.

He'd seen it coming the moment he'd opened his eyes after the infamous kiss. Hoech's face was surprised and ... he couldn't quite figure out what else- something between anger and sympathy or perhaps he'd been in pain because Dylan had come at it so aggressively he'd chipped Tyler's tooth, or maybe his breath had been terrible and he was offended...

No, no, he'd definitely not been replaying that exact moment in his head repeatedly for the past week, _definitely not_.

He wiped a hand across his face and went back to acting.

He held Tyler in his arms, watched as Tyler feigned death and regret, and listened as he said ‘I love you’ in the most heartbreaking way possible. His voice was determined, but sad, wistful.

Oh god, tear his heart out right now and stomp on it some more, Tyler, why don’t you.

It wasn’t difficult to work up some unshed tears; he already felt frustrated and tired, like his emotions sat right underneath his skin, ready to burst.

He breezed through the trying bits, and steeled himself for the final kiss. He leaned over Tyler, one hand braced beside his head, and stared at the space between Tyler’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” Tyler said once more.

“I love you too,” Dylan said to Tyler’s forehead.

Tyler reached up and smoothed his hand over Dylan’s jaw, around to the side of his neck, and Dylan was already leaning in, ready to get it over with, when Tyler’s hand stopped him, pressing gently back.

Dylan waited there, looking into Tyler’s eyes, wondering-

Tyler eye checked him, looked at his lips, and said softly, probably too quiet for the mics to pick up, “Thank you.”

Dylan went out of his head for a moment, completely confused, then remembered he had just saved Derek’s life. Of course.

He hoped his hesitation hadn’t registered on camera. He shook his head a little and said again, like an answer, like an excuse, “I love you.”

Tyler’s nostrils flared, and then he was being kissed, roughly, far too much teeth and far too hard, but he didn’t seem to care. He made a noise he knew he should probably be ashamed of, and fell forward into the kiss, dizzy and off balance. He opened his mouth to Tyler, muscle memory automatic, before he could remember why he shouldn’t be french kissing Tyler right now.

No matter what his brain said, his body didn’t give a fuck.

Tyler’s mouth was so hot, aggressive, biting forward like Dylan was backing away (he definitely wasn’t), and god, how he had missed this. Kissing Tyler just felt so good, so _right_ , he couldn’t stop himself from responding wholeheartedly, whimpering and desperate. Tyler kissed, held, and arched up towards him like he truly wanted it, wanted Dylan falling apart because of his kiss. The flickering thought of being wanted was like fire licking up his spine.

“Cut.”

_Shit._

Dylan pulled back with more finesse than he thought himself capable and heat flooded his face. The director gave them feedback, but he couldn’t hear the words over the pounding in his ears. He wanted to get out, leave, escape the crew, Tyler, the situation, the past week, _his whole fucking life-_

“Need the restroom, sorry,” he said, interrupting, and rushed off the set, locking himself in the nearest bathroom.

He slid down against the door and groaned with his head in his hands.

“Fucking fuck.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door shook as someone knocked.

“Hey, Dylan?”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled. Tyler knocked on the door again.

“You in there?”

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

“Are you… okay, can you- when you’re done, I think we should talk.”

He thunked his head against the door. Why did Tyler have to be so _nice_?

He screwed up his face in a pout and silently sobbed, ‘I don’t want to!’

“Okay… just a second…”

He stood slowly and pulled the door open a crack.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Tyler asked, mouth tense and eyes soft.

He suddenly felt like the biggest asshole in the planet. Here he was, hiding from his _feelings_ , ignoring Tyler like the worst kind of friend, when all Tyler wanted was to make sure Dylan was okay.

“I’m fine, just uh. Yeah I’m fine.” He pulled the door shut behind him, stepping into Tyler’s space. He was about to go around him, back to set, but Tyler grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, I think we should talk. I just want you to know, I’m not upset. And… I’m sorry for letting things get weird, I- I didn’t mean to. Are we okay?”

All fight left him and relief washed over him as he realized he didn’t need to explain- he was forgiven.

“Yes, yeah, totally man. We’re good. I’m sorry too.”

Tyler nodded, a small smile brightening his face. “Good.” Tyler clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by, and Dylan felt better and simultaneously much worse.

They were fine, but Tyler was not interested.

He sighed and got back to work.

…

Tyler could instantly see the difference in Dylan’s demeanor. Sure, he put up a fine front to everyone else, but he _knew_ Dylan- he’d seen how tense and panicked he’d been after Tyler kissed him, and now he could see how calm he was in the line of his shoulders, the way his eyes moved- slow and introspective. Tyler could almost say Dylan seemed… sad? Resigned?

They kept working on the scene, cutting for different angles and lighting. The work was tiring but good; Dylan pushed him to try new things, give better reactions and made it feel real.

As they worked through the end of the scene, Tyler got caught up in Dylan's acting. His tears were raw, voice growing hoarse, tremors in his hands too convincing. Tyler watched him in awe and fear. After this take he'd insist on a break- he wasn't sure how much of Dylan's acting was just that- acting- and how much was a symptom of acting.

"I love you," Tyler said for the final time.

Dylan took a steadying breath and said "I love you, too."

As Dylan leaned forward, Tyler could see the layer of tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. Before Tyler could really think about it, he said, "It's okay. I'm okay, we're okay."

Dylan inhaled sharply, mouth falling open, and choked on his response. He just nodded, tears spilling. Tyler pulled him all the way in and pressed his lips lightly against Dylan's. He responded in kind, kissing back softly, slowly, interspersed with spaces and commas like a conversation.

When they cut, Tyler held Dylan's face firmly and gave him one last smacking kiss. Dylan smiled into it, laughing as he pulled away. Tyler could see the blush rising in his cheeks as he tried to stifle his grin.

"Can we take a quick break?"

They got five minutes since they were close to finishing. Tyler stretched, chugged a bottle of water, and sidled close to where Dylan was sprawled across the floor and nudged his thigh with the toe of his shoe.

Dylan grunted, cracking one eye open.

"Wanna come over later?"

Dylan scrunched up his face. "I don't know man, I just wanna crash."

"Come crash at mine. I'll make you dinner."

“Mmm. Free dinner. Movie too?”

“Sure, a movie too.” Tyler smiled down at him, happy to have their easy friendship back.

“Alright. You might have to carry me there, I’m seriously wiped.”

Tyler snorted. “Okay. Can do.”

…

“Dude, do you have any alcohol at all in here?” Dylan asked, head stuck in the refrigerator.

“Hard liquor in the freezer,” Tyler said from the stove, working on a pasta sauce. “But I don’t have any mixers. Besides, you’re already tired, you need caffeine, not alcohol.”

“Man, I already told you, as soon as I eat, I will crash. No doubt, no amount of caffeine will change that. Why do you care if I stay awake, you said I should still come over.” Dylan leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

“Maybe I’d like to actually see you. We barely talked this week.”

And there it was, the thing Tyler had meant to avoid talking about tonight.

“Yeah,” Dylan sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. He didn't say anything further, and let the silence spin between them.

“Get out some plates?” Tyler pointed to the cabinet and Dylan turned away.

Tyler breathed a sigh of relief, plated their dinner, started up a movie, and joined Dylan on the couch.

“Oh my god,” Dylan moaned after his first bite, “this is amazing. What did you put in here, magic?”

Tyler smiled, warmed by the compliment. They ate and watched in companionable silence. Tyler was happy, content to be in Dylan’s presence at all. After their hard day and terrible week, it felt like morning dew and sunshine after a cold dark night.

True to his word, Dylan began nodding off not long after he finished his dinner. Tyler watched him for a while; the way his head would fall forward, to the side, then jerk back up. It was definitely amusing, but he knew Dylan would fare better laying down.

“Hey,” he said as he jostled him slightly. “Hey, do you want me to take you home?”

Dylan screwed up his face, squinting at Tyler, and made a questioning noise.

“I can take you home, or you can just pass out here, whatever.”

Dylan rubbed his eyes with one hand and looked around. “Yeah, here’s fine.”

“Well, get comfortable.” Tyler pulled a blanket from a basket and laid it over Dylan once he was situated.

“Thanks man. You’re the best,” Dylan said with eyes closed.

A tiny thrill ran through him at his words. He sat there until the movie was over, but he didn’t watch it.

Dylan really had the best eyelashes. And lips. God, those lips.

The urge to touch was overwhelming. Something inside his rib cage ached. He felt so close, but further away from what he really wanted than ever before.

Tyler went to sleep thinking of Dylan’s lips pressed against his.

…

Tyler woke early like usual. He went through the motions of yoga, coffee, and email before he remembered that Dylan was still on his couch.

Tyler tiptoed into the living room to see Dylan very much asleep- mouth wide open, shirt rucked up, one leg flared out resting on the coffee table. He looked gorgeous.

Dylan would probably appreciate breakfast, he thought. He started up another pot of coffee and began on a simple breakfast. Tyler presumed Dylan would wake up when he started clattering pans and frying bacon, but he was still dead to the world when the eggs were done.

“Hey, Dylan! Dylan, wake up!” He began plating the eggs and bacon and put some bread in the toaster. He could hear Dylan shuffling around and groaning as he stretched.

“Come get some food.”

Dylan came around the corner, scratching his belly and yawning, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. He looked rumpled and far too adorable for Tyler to let his stare linger.

“Here, food.”

Dylan groaned in appreciation. “Oh, you are the best. There’s coffee? Yeeeeesss.” He made himself a mug as Tyler buttered the toast. He put a piece on each plate and passed one to Dylan.

He took it with a smile. “Thanks, you’re awesome.” He leaned in and pecked Tyler on the lips.

Tyler stared, frozen in shock at the place Dylan had just stood.

Dylan shuffled away, taking a sip from his mug, and stopped halfway into the living room. His whole body locked up, shoulders going to ears. Tyler licked his lips and watched as Dylan slowly turned around.

“Uh, I did not mean to do that. I don’t know why I did that- I’m sor--”

Dylan made a shocked noise into Tyler’s mouth, flinching badly and sloshing his hot coffee all over Tyler’s front.

But Tyler didn’t care.

Once was a mistake, twice was… not a mistake. No matter how Dylan might deny it, he obviously wanted to be kissing Tyler casually, in affection, with love, and Tyler was not going to let this opportunity pass him by.

He kissed Dylan firmly so he would have no doubt as to Tyler’s intentions. He kissed him without pause so he would know how much Tyler didn’t want to stop. He kissed him with lips and tongue before breakfast, with morning breath, so he would know how long Tyler had wanted this, wanted it in every way and any time and without reservation.

Dylan kissed back, making little noises, and kept pulling away only to dive back in. Finally he pulled back and said, “Let me set this down- okay- yeah,” and pulled Tyler back in by the sides of his face. Tyler let Dylan take over, gave in to being taken, fell into dizziness and had to steady himself with a hand on the counter behind him.

Dylan’s mouth was familiar- they’d kissed many times, technically- but this was different. The kisses were uncalculated, messy, full of heat and want so strong Tyler thought he would pass out from the blood rushing to his face. He’d never been kissed with so much passion.

Dylan pushed his body up against his, pinning him between Dylan’s hips and the kitchen counter. Dylan kept making these hitching movements like he wanted to grind, but couldn’t quite figure out how to do it. Tyler slid one hand down Dylan’s side around to his lower back, paused as he took control of the kiss, then let his hand find Dylan’s backside. He grabbed a handful and pulled him in in an upward grind.

Dylan pulled away with a broken sound. His eyes were dazed, hazy with lust, and his mouth was red, swollen and wet. Tyler felt a murmur of pride knowing he’d done that to him.

“Fuck.” Dylan loosened his grip on Tyler’s face and stroked over his jaw with trembling thumbs. Their breath mingled as they panted, looking into each other’s eyes. “So…”

Tyler raised his eyebrows and waited, running his hands up and down Dylan’s side.

“So, uh. You look really good in those glasses. Have I ever told you that? It’s really hot.”

Tyler laughed at the non sequitur, totally fine with not discussing the elephant in the room, and dove back in for another kiss, all lips.

“Like, seriously, so hot-” Dylan said against his mouth. “You were wearing them last week at T’s house-”

“Is that why you kissed me? Cuz I was wearing glasses?” Tyler asked, nudging Dylan’s nose with his own.

“That’s part of it. Glasses kink- that’s my thing I guess.”

“I think I just have a Dylan kink.”

Dylan looked up sharply. “Yeah?”

Tyler blinked slowly and licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Dylan smirked, letting his eyes fall to Tyler’s lips. “Good.”

Tyler pulled Dylan closer and smiled into their kiss.

…

_hoech, did you read the script for next week?_

_yeah talk about depressing_

_at least there’s more 'us' action_

_true, i really like that part_

_me too. i wonder how far we could take it before Russell kicks us off set._

_i’d really rather not try_

_where’s your sense of adventure? are you saying you’re not an exhibitionist?_

_not even remotely. although i don’t mind kissing you in front of people._

_kissing, psh. bfd. i wanna see if I can at least get some humping action in, maybe unbutton some pants…_

_no. just no. are you saying you don’t like the kissing?_

_i’m just saying our show could go up a rating or two, you know?_

_-and no, i love the kissing. you’re the best._

_good. ill try to make it as good for you as possible WITHOUT pants coming off. we can always escape to my trailer._

_oh you’re so sweet. my hoech in shining armor._

_:) dont forget to bring condoms. it’s your turn._

_sure thing. don’t forget the tic tacs! ;)_


End file.
